“Perhaps she will,” said Jessie, “but there’s one thing certain, you mustn’t tell any stories of The Imp.”
“Of course I won’t. Whoever heard of such a thing? You don’t suppose I’d do that, do you, Jessie?”
“I don’t know, you’re such a queer girl, Molly; you take people up in such a hot sort of fashion. You are almost as impulsive as that dreadful little Irish thing in the corner.”
Now “the dreadful little Irish thing in the corner,” as it so happened, opened, not the eyes of her body, but the eyes of her mind at that moment, and heard the words which Jessie had pronounced. A sudden stab, a sudden queer tremor took possession of her frame. She, who loathed England, who had come over because she had been dragged there, was called by one of those detestable English girls “that dreadful little Irish thing in the corner.” Oh wouldn’t she give it to her! Without opening her eyes she knew quite well who had spoken—it was Jessie. Molly would not be so unkind. From the very first Peggy had hated Jessie.
“I’ll make things unpleasant for her at school,” she thought, “see if I don’t!” Her cheeks flushed, her eyes brightened. “I’ll kape things dark. Who’s The Imp? I’ll make friends wid her, if she’ll help me to punish Jessie Wyndham,” thought the girl. Then she opened her bright eyes wide and fixed them on the other girls. “How soon will we be there? I’m sick of this jolting along,” she said.
“We won’t be there for at least an hour,” said Jessie, in a cross voice; “and as to jolting along, I’m sure, my dear Peggy, you were never in such a beautiful train before in the whole course of your life.”
“Wasn’t I? The trains in Ireland are twice as nice. They go jogglety-jogglety, an’ stop just when ye want them. If there’s a little pigeen lost by the wayside, why, the man stops the train an’ out he gets to take it up. We’ve a heart of our own in Ould Ireland; ye haven’t a bit of it in England, ye’re as cold, as cold as a lump of stone!”
“Well, you needn’t abuse us,” said Jessie, in rather a cross tone, “it’s disagreeable enough to be going to school with you without your abusing us too.”
“Don’t scold her, Jessie. Remember that, although this is our fourth or fifth term at school, it is poor little Peggy’s first,” said Molly. “Peggy, come over and sit close to me, and I will point out the beautiful things as we pass them by.”
“There ain’t no beautiful things,” said Peggy; “there are no beautiful things anywhere except in Ireland, bless its heart!”